


Dornish Fly

by Vana



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Body Horror, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, F/M, Guess Whose Wang!, Qybueno!, Zombie Body Parts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 17:03:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2396057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vana/pseuds/Vana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was written to fill the <a href="http://fleabottomfics.tumblr.com/">Flea Bottom Fic Exchange</a> prompt:</p><p>Qyburn/Cersei— The payment he demands for his services is one she is not sure she can pay. Darkfic. We all know Qyburn is into some shit, so anything goes. Can be consensual, but Cersei shouldn’t be overly enthusiastic.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Dornish Fly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ariannenymerosmartell (somethingmoo)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingmoo/gifts).



> This was written to fill the [Flea Bottom Fic Exchange](http://fleabottomfics.tumblr.com/) prompt:
> 
> Qyburn/Cersei— The payment he demands for his services is one she is not sure she can pay. Darkfic. We all know Qyburn is into some shit, so anything goes. Can be consensual, but Cersei shouldn’t be overly enthusiastic.

 

“Drink this, Your Grace,” the once-maester had urged in his papery voice. “I assure you it will remedy your … problem.” The queen had almost found it charming the way Qyburn looked away when he referred to her moon’s blood, this time accompanied by such violent cramping pains that she was left curled in a semicircle on the floor. That was the way he had found her — and she was lucky he had. He carried her off to his solar, held a cup up to her lips, and said it would help the writhing thing in her lower belly, and that was all she needed to hear.

  
The drink tasted Dornish, like their dark sticky red wine and their peppers and their spices. Cersei’s eyes watered as she swallowed, and it stung her throat so that she coughed, but she knew that if Qyburn said it would help, then it would. She looked up at him from where she lay on the narrow bed where she had seen others …. treated, in Qyburn’s manner of speaking. Her eyes seemed to cross and blur over as the potion took effect, but through the haze, she saw the man looking at her with his grandfatherly expression. “Rest, Your Grace,” he said. “You will feel quite differently soon.”

That, she realized when she woke again, was an understatement. She felt … remarkable. Cersei had no idea she could feel this strong, this womanly, this sensual, not even with Jaime — but when she tried to stand, she tottered and collapsed back onto the bed, barely catching herself on an elbow. “What…” Her words were stuck together in her mouth as if she had eaten too much icing or spun sugar. “Qy…burn?”

He was still there, seated at a table. He turned around quickly, but a pleased expression lit his kind features as he saw her.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Qyburn said. “Now, isn’t this a bit better?”

Why had she not truly heard his voice before? It was a smooth, dark voice, and it made her ache between her legs. She could hardly move, but she crossed one leg over the other, and felt a slow burn begin. Keep talking, she begged him silently.

“Part of what I have given you is called Dornish fly,” he continued pleasantly. “It’s a southron insect, ground up and steeped. The other was merely something to … relax you.”

She hardly noticed what he was saying, but focused on the minute movements she was making sliding her thighs together.

“I believe we have some business to discuss,” said Qyburn. “Would you mind doing that now?”

“No,” Cersei managed. Her tongue was still not working, but what did it matter? Her cunt was burning up and she wanted the former maester to either leave so she could plunge her fingers into it, or shed his grey robes and take her himself. A part of her was horrified at this thought, but that was fading quickly. What was happening to her?

“Good,” Qyburn said. “Part of my price, as I asked, was that you allow me to … experiment, shall we say, on Your Grace’s enemies, and prisoners. … Please just nod if you agree, as I know it may be difficult to speak.”

Cersei nodded, but her entire attention was focused on the tingling between her legs and what she could do to ease the awful need.

“We had not discussed my full price, however. That, my lady, is the use of your own body in my research …”  
The queen nodded frantically; her head pounded, but her soaked cunt throbbed with anticipation.

“Which I assume will be to your favor.”

Yes, yes, Cersei thought. Just fuck me now, whoever you are. She couldn’t quite remember that anymore. It seemed as though the potion was intensifying even as the minutes passed: the intoxicant and the relaxant working together so she had to lie back on the bed, nearly incapacitated. All that mattered was the hollow throb between her thighs, the aching emptiness.

“Jaime,” she whimpered, though she didn’t hear the word aloud. When she felt this way, it was always Jaime she wanted — his strong hands, his clever, quick tongue, his hard prick. What wouldn’t she give for her brother right now?

The older man seemed to turn toward her, quickly, perking his ears up like a listening rabbit. “ _Jaime_ you say?” he said. “Is that what you want?”

Yes, Jaime! Jaime! Was he here? “Yes… plea.. Jai…me!”

The man hurried out. She almost remembered him. Was he her father? Anyone would do. She snaked her heavy hand between her legs, parted her gowns and smallclothes, and nearly moaned as the cool air hit her burning skin. Just as she was about to decide she couldn’t wait for her twin and start to rub herself, a man entered. He was hooded now and she thought she saw a hank of blonde hair hanging from the cowl. “Jaimmeeeee,” she cried out.

The hooded man said nothing, but approached her and spread her legs wide. She felt a hand make its way up her thigh, where she dripped with lust. Jaime, she thought wildly. You’ve come back for me after all.

The hand was startlingly cold, but it was Jaime’s — that much she knew. She had felt his hands on and inside her cunt since they were children and there was no mistaking the shapes of the fingers, the bones beneath the skin — although the fingers seemed puffier than they had, this only served to heighten Cersei’s excitement. She felt the fingers gingerly caress her, the tips of them skating over her little nub almost tremulously. Harder, damn you! she thought. Jaime had never been this timid, but she couldn’t help thrusting her hips up toward the cold fingers where they rested atop her mound, tantalizing her with how close they were to her wetness. “Inside….me,” she forced out, through the rocks that were her tongue and teeth. “Fuck me, Jaime. Please.”

Then Jaime disappeared. She could almost feel his hand still there — how was it possible? But she couldn’t move to touch and find out for herself. He reappeared, still hooded, still silent. This time, his cock stood out naked from his groin, red and veiny. It seemed familiar, but not Jaime, not his perfect white cock. The image of another person flashed into her head, a heavily muscled, dull man with thick eyebrows … She had seen this cock before, but what had he looked like?

It was hardly of consequence: it was there, approaching, and Cersei’s cunt twinged in anticipation. Jaime still did not speak, and she could not see his face as far back in the hood as it was. The cold, tight hand rested awkwardly in her blonde nether curls, and then she grasped his cock and thrust it inside her without preamble. It filled her up, drew her back, sucked her in, quenched her ache. Then Jaime’s hand moved again, roughly pinching her sensitive nub tight between two fingers. She peaked on the instant, clenching around that thick cock and twitching helplessly on the bed, unable to move except to spasm again and again while the tremors subsided.

Jaime never reached his own peak; he took his cock, still distended with blood, in his good hand and pulled it out.

“Wait,” Cersei said.

Then he took his other hand away.

His … _other_ hand …

“Gods,” the queen gasped in horror. But the man was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to: [ikkiM](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ikkiM) for the idea; [CommaSplice](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CommaSplice) for the beta; [starsunk](http://archiveofourown.org/users/starsunk) and [shadowsfan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsfan) for the moral support; and [drownedbyyourstandards](http://archiveofourown.org/users/drownedbyyourstandards) and [ariannenymerosmartell](http://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingmoo) for dreaming up and running the Flea Bottom Fic Exchange! Doing this fic pushed my writing limits something fierce, which I was looking for. If you need a good dose of fluff after reading what I dubbed the "Qysei Horrorshow" may I suggest some nice, soft-core Stavos?!


End file.
